Fool Me Like I'm Dreaming
by WeAllLoveHiccup
Summary: This is the story of the last time Hiccup told his Father when he was bored, or scared; the last time he told him when he was concerned or worried. The only time he told him he liked drawing and the last time Hiccup told his father, well... anything.


**Here we go! Back in the ol' comfort zone of angsty oneshots involving much emotional pain! *rubs hands together* Enjoy! If you dare...**

 **(Seriously though it's pretty light. For me.)**

"Son, I'm working."

"But daddy! I want to play!"

Small, pale hands tugged fruitlessly at a large, solid arm.

"Daaddyy "

"I don't have time for this now! Go play so where else. _Quietly_."

"But daaad, I wanna be with you!"

Big green eyes stared at a large, impassive shoulder. He silently willed for his dad to turn around and scoop him up, sit him on his lap and talk about just _anything_ with him. He stared down the shoulder for a long time. Well, a long time for a hyperactive 7 year old. (Which was around 2 minutes and 15 seconds) He lifted a tiny, stubby finger and poked it into his daddy's meaty arm.

"Daddy pwease! I'm so boored!"

He poked again.

No movement.

He poked again.

His little heart jumped in happiness when his dad finally turned around, only for it to drop again at the thunderous anger in those stormy grey eyes. Suddenly his wrist was being squeezed and the huge shadow he was standing in felt a little less comforting.

Then, he was shouting. Using those big words that he never understood but that had something to do with twins and Mister Mildew and destruction and money. Hiccup got the gist, he was angry. The grip on his wrist was really tight now.

"Daddy? You're scaring me."

A small gasp escaped his mouth as his wrist gave a crack.

"Go to your room and don't come out until I say so. No trouble."

"Yes Dad."

There were two bumpy bits in his wrist now.

Just another thing that made him different.

oOo

A thin, high pitched whine came out of the bundle on the floor.

Discoloured blood surrounded it and glazed over eyes seemed to have the most potent stare.

"Dad, he's hurting!"

"It's a dragon Hiccup."

Hiccup frowned. So?

"But daad, why are you hurting him?"

"Son, be quiet. Take that, ya beast!"

"DAD! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!"

"Haha! That's the idea, son!"

"But Dad, why?"

The happy sparkle that was seeming less and less warm and more crazed suddenly disappeared. "Why, Hiccup? You're asking me why?"

"Yes Dad," Hiccup breathed as fear snuck in, shaking him a bit.

A large hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder, roughly bringing him forward.

"Look at this beast! The dragons are evil, son. We have been fighting them for 300 years! They steal our food and burn down our houses. It is our job as Vikings and our great pride to take them down."

The 10 year old stared at the pitiful bundle at his feet. He felt no pride. The 'beast' merely let out another painful whine and squirmed a bit, no 'evil' in its glassy eyes. Hiccup gulped. He had to to something.

"I'm sorry." He whispered to it before turning and facing his father who still had a painful grip on his shoulder. "Kill it Dad."

That awful happy spark returned, one that he'd grown to hate in such a short time.

The pressure on his shoulder alleviated, followed by a 'friendly' pat on his back that sent him flying.

"That's my boy! Now watch this!"

The dragon didn't make a sound as it's head was twisted from its shoulders.

Five large oval shaped marks stayed on his tiny shoulder.

It was an interesting birthmark.

For a while.

oOo

Thin, calloused fingers twirled a crude pencil and soft humming filled the quiet forest. He added some more swirling lines to the drawing of a Snoggletog decoration. His annoying long, thick sleeves fell down over his hands again and he huffed as he hiked them up once more. Hiccup stared down at them for a little bit, thinking. If only he could stop them moving... like some kind of belt... leather! He could just wind the straps around and.. yes!

Having found a not-life-threatening-or-destructive idea to carry out, he set off through the village, dodging shields and trees and sheep and not quite dodging Astrid (great, of all people..) and..

"Oh, hey Dad."

The man in question hefted up a large shield for another man to hammer.

"Son! Are you helping with the decorations?"

"Er.. no I was just drawing and then I had an I..."

"Drawing?"

"Yeah. I like drawing. Anyway I had.."

Suddenly he was lying in the snow and his cheek was stinging.

"Your crazy ideas are bad enough. I don't need you having _plans_ of them to destroy the village with! It's Snoggletog! Can you manage to stay out of trouble for just this week?"

"Yes father."

"Good. Now run along."

"Yes father."

Did you know yaknog makes a great concealer?

Now you do.

oOo

Hiccup was fuming. Livid. Beyond angry.

Yet.. he had never felt so crushed in all his life.

He watched the ship become a speck on the horizon. The ship containing the person he hated the most and the being he loved the most.

What did he think he was playing at? Saying he wasn't a Viking. Did he think that would _upset_ him? He never was one in the first place! Vikings kill dragons! They're the heartless monsters they claim the dragons are.

And as for being his son.. he was glad! He never asked to be the son of that man! So far all it had brought him was misery!

So.. if he didn't care.. if he was better off this way... why did it _hurt_ so bad?

 _Toothless._

He needed Toothless.

Even if he never spoke to Stoick Haddock again he needed Toothless. No, scratch that. Speaking to that man only brought him pain anyway. He had given up voicing any discomfort or opinions a long time ago because all it did was remind him that he didn't deserve to be listened to. So, he was never speaking to him again. Not that it would matter.

His ribs hurt.

He ignored it.

oOo

Hiccup stared out at the sea, wondering why he felt so much _loss_.

Yes, he buried all his resentment for the man who hurt him when he decided to forgive him, the 'for everything' at the end of his apology that day saying everything, almost too much.

He saw, as he got older just how stressful being chief was and he could hardly blame him for the things he did. After all, he was a _hiccup_. A useless nuisance _._ He had no delusions that he was maybe worth something in this world, in the scheme of things, but now.. he was worth something to Astrid. To his mother. To Berk.

When his father called him the 'Pride of Berk' it wasn't everything he'd ever wanted. It was more. He just wanted to feel loved, like someone cared. Something his father never really gave him. Not like he deserved it anyway.

But.. oh _gods_ his father. He was _gone_. Completely. Never coming back.

He died saving a hiccup.

And Hiccup never had the chance to tell him. Tell him how much he had meant to Gobber, to Valka, to Berk. How he was brave and fair. How, though he may have not been the best father, he was the best chief. He was loyal beyond everything and worked so hard to right his wrongs.

In the ways of being a chief, Hiccup couldn't even hope to match his father. But somehow that didn't matter anymore. His father was gone, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. It was time to finally put it all to rest. He had a body to bury, a great spirit to send to Valhalla and a village to save. He couldn't grieve anymore, he had spent too much time in his short childhood grieving over his father. It was time to write his own story, decide how it will end.

Chief Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III.

Who would have thought.

 **So.. yeah. That was fun, wasn't it? Leave a review ;)**


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